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* * *

Perhaps ten blocks ahead, as Rafiel entered a definitely seedy area of abandoned warehouses and graffitied overpasses, he saw a shadow fall over the car. A shadow such as if a really large dragon body had flown overhead. And then, in front of a warehouse, Tom stood, extending his thumb in the universal gesture of the hitchhiker.

Rafiel stopped and unlocked the door. As Tom got in, he looked for signs of blood around his mouth or something. Trying to keep it light, he said, "You know, hitchhiking naked is a felony. And we don't even go into what eating a policeman might be. The force disapproves of it."

Tom stopped, in the middle of buckling his seatbelt. "I didn't eat him," he said. "He started screaming for mercy as soon as I was fully out of the car. I just flew away after that. I figure there's no way he's going to tell anyone what happened, and your license plate will never be mentioned."

"You sure?" Rafiel said.

"I'm sure. If I'd eaten him, you wouldn't look so tasty right about now."

Rafiel wasn't absolutely sure whether Tom was joking, but then again, he also wasn't willing to tempt fate. "Clothes are under the seat. We should put something on before we go to a drive-through," he said.

"And afterwards?" Tom said.

"Afterwards," Rafiel said, "we go get your damn boots."

 

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Framed